


Insurgere

by Lady Adain (pocketTherapist)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Day 6--Revolution, Fluff and Angst, Ichigo vs. Gotei 13, Is it crack if there's no real danger?, M/M, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, UraIchi Week 2018, no beta we die like men, the plot is a lie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-17 19:02:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14837390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketTherapist/pseuds/Lady%20Adain
Summary: Everyone knows the Central 46 is a group of pretentious, power-hungry idiots. They really shouldn't have tried to mess with Kurosaki Ichigo, though.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. I have finally caved and agreed to post something. Here goes absolutely nothing. 
> 
> Feedback and constructive criticism absolutely welcome.

When he finally dies, for real this time, no take backs, the only thing Ichigo registers is an intense feeling of relief. It's been such a long time, and even as sealed as he is, he never stopped being able to See. 

He skips straight over being a Plus and wakes up somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Rukongai.

Immediately, his head is filled with chaos. Shiro is cackling hysterically, very nearly shrieking with laughter that sounds equal parts relieved, insane, and furious. Ossan is laughing too, though, quiet but exultant, in counterpart to Shiro’s howling. 

Ichigo has never managed Jinzen so fast in the entirety of his existence. 

He and Shiro collide at top speed and go tumbling across the side of a skyscraper, not fighting, but not quite just hugging, either, wrestling like wolf cubs without any malicious intent at all. They make eye contact, have a moment of perfect harmony, and then they slam into Ossan like a runaway train. By the time they all three roll panting to a halt, everyone is giggling like sugar-hyped children, Ossan’s shades are nowhere to be found, and Shiro and Ichigo are lying on either side of the Quincy spirit in a happy heap. 

It's the closest thing to peace that Ichigo can remember. 

Finally, Shiro speaks up.

“What now, King? We ain’t goin’ back to the Shinigami, are we? ‘Cause, no offense, but after what those bastards did, they don’t deserve us.”

Ichigo rolls onto his back and lies there, staring contemplatively up into the cloudless blue sky. Shiro’s absolutely right, of course, and the old bitterness wells up into his throat. Central 46 has ever hated what it cannot control, and it rapidly became glaringly obvious that Ichigo was going to do what he believed right, and heaven help anyone standing in his path. Hardly had the final enemy fallen before he was being hauled up before the counsel of geezers to “have his status as a substitute shinigami revoked,” nevermind that Ichigo could barely be considered one-third shinigami by then. They hadn't listened, just thanked him with condescending politeness as they sealed his reiatsu away and told him that they looked forward to the day he joined them properly. 

Ichigo might have been channeling Shiro by then, but the stunned looks on the faces of his captors had definitely been worth it when he had told them what they could do with their offer. 

And then there had been silence, nothing but silence where his companions should be, silence for long years until…

Well, to be fair, Ichigo never did like bullies. It wasn't a bad way to go. 

“Do we really have to do anything at all just yet? We can take a few years off, relax, maybe finally figure out kido or something. No pressure, no evil overlords, just us.”

Ossan hums quietly, his approval of the idea rumbling through their bond. Even Shiro seems amenable, although the hollow is somewhat hopeful that at least they'll get to kill some of the hollows that always end up rampaging through Rukongai. Ichigo can't argue with that. The Gotei 13 is designed to provide a defense against hollows, but their focus has ever been on Seireitei and the surrounding districts, leaving those further out to mostly fend for themselves. He does need to brush up on his zanjutsu, after all. 

With a huff of air and something that might -- just maybe -- be construed as a smile, Ichigo dragged himself out of Jinzen. Might as well get started. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Urahara Kisuke. For the creation of the Hogyouku, for unethical experiments on fellow shinigami, for defying this august body, and for facilitating a war, you are hereby sentenced to Muken. In light of your contributions to the war effort, we have decided to commute your sentence to a mere thousand years. Take him away.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Rukia.”

“Nii-sama.”

“I have received reports that a man with orange hair has been sighted in the outlands near district 63. I will be reporting this to Central 46… as soon as my request for an audience has been granted through the proper channels. You understand, of course, that I am only letting you know so that you do not do something rash, like going to find him and warn him of the political situation. Have I made myself clear?”

“I … yes, nii-sama. If I may be excused?”

“Of course. 

“… Rukia.”

“Nii-sama?”

“You may want to take an extra set of rations. He may be hungry.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^


	2. Chapter 2

Ichigo is, as ever, horrifically easy to find. District 63 isn’t the  _ worst _ of the districts, but it certainly isn’t the best, and Ichigo is the only spot of vibrant life in the drab, silent ghost town. Rukia hears him before she sees him, roaring at the latest unfortunate soul to draw his attention. 

 

“...do you think you’re doing? That’s not how you fix a break, moron!”

 

Rukia grins and puts on an extra burst of speed. Sounds like Ichigo hasn’t changed at all. Oddly, though, she can’t feel his reiatsu. He  _ can’t _ still be sealed, can he? 

 

Putting the thought out of her mind, she surges forward, tumbling out of the edge of the trees and shooting across the outskirts of the village, and there's only a brief flash of startled orange before she's colliding with Ichigo at full speed. Delighted laughter spills from her throat as they both go sprawling. There's a long second, and then a bewildered “Rukia? What are you doing here? We're out in the sixties!”

 

But his arms come up to wrap around her without a moment's hesitation, and tension she hadn't even known she'd been carrying melts away like so much snow. 

 

Her laughter has become mixed with tears at some point, and by the time she wipes her face and sits up, Ichigo looks a bit concerned. And murderous.

 

“...midget? You okay?”

 

She doesn’t even smack him, just swallows around the hitch in her throat and buries her face in his shoulder. 

 

“Ichigo,  _ gods _ , it’s been forever. Just...let me have this for a second, okay?”

 

Tellingly, Ichigo doesn’t move to push her off of him. Finally, her ingrained propriety kicks in, and she shuffles off of him to kneel on the grass next to him. She hesitates, and then bows deeply. 

 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ichigo.”

 

There’s a long pause, and then Ichigo’s hand lands heavily on her head, ruffling her hair. 

 

“It’s okay, Rukia. You couldn’t have done anything. Nobody could have done anything. I don’t think anyone even knew, right?”

 

“But we could have sneaked out and gone looking for you, we could have--!”

Ichigo takes her shoulders and lifts her up, a wry smile on his face. It’s so different from the frown she remembers that she has to just watch him for a moment, assessing. He just seems...different. More at peace, maybe? Rukia knows how heavily the war had weighed on him, and she wishes she didn’t carry the news she does.

 

But she owes him, and so she steels her spine and thrusts her extra pack at him. 

 

“Ichigo, you have to get out of here. Central 46 knows you’re dead, by now, and they’re not going to let you just walk away. If you don’t leave now, you’re going to be hunted down, and they’ll either make you join them, or kill you. Or worse.”

 

Ichigo raises an unconcerned eyebrow at her. 

 

“Yeah, I figured they’d be doing something like that. What do you mean,  _ worse?” _

 

She grimaces. 

 

“Anyone who defies them lately, they’re either being sent to the Maggots’ Nest… or to Muken. They’re consolidating power, heavens know why, and half the captains are either loyal to them or  _ directly _ under their thumb. It’s been awful. Byakuya-nii has been our best resource for years. He was the one who let me know that you’d been sighted, before he had to report it to Central.”

 

_ There’s _ the frown she remembers so well. It crawls across his brow and settles in his face, aging him. Before her eyes, the strawberry turns back into the war commander she once knew.

 

“Where is Shunsui?”

 

“He’s doing his best to mitigate their influence, but his hands are more or less tied. They’ve got a constant, official stalemate these days, while both sides try to work around each other unofficially.”

 

“Urahara?”

 

Rukia braces herself, shakes her head. 

 

“It was the first thing they did once you were out of the picture. He’s in Muken.” 

 

Ichigo closes his eyes. 

 

“Of course they did. He  _ would _ be the biggest threat to them, after all. Yoruichi?”

 

“She and Tessai haven’t been seen since Kisuke went down. They and the Visored disappeared simultaneously, so we hope they’re out there together, wherever they went.”

Ichigo nods seriously. 

 

“How about Unohana, Ukitake, and all the older captains?”

 

“Ukitake isn’t doing very well; we’re trying to keep them from replacing him with another one of their lapdogs, but I don’t think he really even cares that much anymore. No one from the Forty-six would  _ dare _ tell Unohana to give up her post, so the Fourth is still hers. Toshiro’s doing his best to be a pain in the ass without getting sent to the Maggots’ Nest, but Soi Fon is probably loyal to Central. Komamura took a leave of absence right after the war and hasn’t been seen since. Mayuri is also loyal to Central, but only because they let him have prisoners to experiment on, and he’s on a pretty short leash so that he doesn’t get sent back to the Nest too.”

 

Ichigo looks pensive, but not overly worried--he never does look  _ actually _ worried when things get rough. She doesn’t know if it’s the years of war experience or the indomitable strength that has nothing to do with his reiatsu, but it’s...reassuring. Sitting here, in the middle of a dusty field, plotting treason and being watched warily by the Rukongai residents, she feels more at ease than she has in decades. Tension she hadn’t even noticed slides out of her shoulders. 

 

Although…

 

“I know your reiatsu was supposed to be unsealed by your death. But I can’t feel anything… Is it… do you…?” Rukia trails off, unsure how to ask if his powers are back and not wanting to prod a sore spot. She has no doubt that he’ll push a revolution through Seireitei, reiatsu or not, but it would make things a little easier. Besides, Ichigo should  _ always _ have his powers. They’re a part of him, just like the ever-present frown and the orange hair. She can’t  _ imagine _ having Sode no Shirayuki stripped away from her for decades. 

 

Ichigo just smiles at her again, something mischevious settled in the lines of his mouth. 

 

“What do you think, princess midget?”

 

Rukia tilts her head and looks at him, really looks. He still looks twenty, of course--by halfway through the war, it had become obvious that he was no longer aging, or that if he was, it was slowed to an imperceptible amount. His hair is longer, swept back in a rough ponytail that bushes out like a fox’s tail, as untameable as ever. Ichigo is quiet, with a stillness to him that Rukia doesn’t think she’s ever seen. It reminds her of a river, seemingly peaceful but with a depth and strength that could catch the unwary off-guard. His kimono sleeves and bangs waver in a breeze she can’t feel. 

 

Yeah, he’s fine. She matches his grin, then, and rises to her feet.

 

“So, Ichigo, what’s the plan?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aizen decides he wants to be a part of this story.
> 
> Fine, idiot, you asked for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Non-graphic torture, mentions of torture, not-nice people being not-nice. 
> 
> Aizen muscled his way into this fic and it was Not Planned what the fuck is going on someone send help this was supposed to be nothing but fluff

Rukia should have  _ known _ that this would be the plan. She glowers from beneath Ichigo’s arm, annoyed but more or less resigned to being carried. It’s hard to tell, but she thinks he’s probably faster than anyone else she’s ever seen, even with her admittedly slight weight added on. 

 

They stop by Kukaku’s, briefly, just long enough to warn her that Ichigo is dead and that if she has allies in Rukongai, she may want to contact them, because things are happening and things are happening  _ now _ .

 

Ichigo doesn’t even slow down as he hits the sekkiseki wall, blurring past it faster than it can fall. Alarms go off almost immediately, though, and Ichigo pauses on a rooftop to grin down at her with nostalgia. 

 

Rukia wants to  _ smack _ him, being all sentimental about her execution, but she understands. A lot of bonds were forged, back then, and they’re about to test  _ all of them _ . 

 

She’s excited, too. This has been a long time coming, and it’s well-deserved. This time, she’s on the side of chaos. Maybe Ichigo has rubbed off on her, but...well, madness and mayhem can be  _ fun _ . 

 

As per The Plan, she points Ichigo in the direction of Muken and disappears back to her post, from which she will spread information and misinformation to allies and enemies alike. Besides, she  _ really _ wants to tell Renji and Byakuya already. And Ichigo will be fine on his own, especially since he won’t have to watch anyone else’s back. 

 

Rukia’s only a  _ little _ disappointed that she won’t get to watch Ichigo tear through Muken, but she consoles herself with the knowledge that she’ll see plenty of chaos soon enough. 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

No one challenges Ichigo on his way into Muken. He can tell which guards recognize him, because they immediately turn to their companions and convince them to stand down. 

 

Most of the guards seem to be pretending to struck with selective blindness, but a few of them wave him on with something that looks like excitement. A couple wave him over solemnly, though, and Ichigo listens to their warnings about deeper into the prison with growing worry. They’re all C46 men inside the prison, apparently, and  _ no one _ is allowed to know what happens. On one hand, it means he doesn’t have to worry about collateral damage. On the other--well, he doesn’t really want to  _ think _ about some of the things C46 might be up to, if they won’t even let the shinigami see what’s going on in there. 

 

He enters the prison proper and decides to hunt down someone who can guide him in the direction he needs to go. It’s...more difficult than he would have thought. Mostly, he wanders the halls in absolute silence, unable to hear anything. The rows of sealed doors are a little unsettling, too. Finally, he finds what appears to be some sort of headquarters. The veiled attendant there leaps to his feet, reaching for his weapon, but Ichigo flashes forward and clamps his hand over the other’s, preventing him from even drawing it. Shiro materializes in his hand with a thought, and the long silver blade rests with unwavering control on the edge of the man’s throat. 

 

Ichigo smiles at him. 

 

It is not a pretty smile. 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Ichigo finds Kisuke curled in a corner of his cell, eyes bound and reiatsu sealed. The flare of fury that rushes through him dissolves the bindings as soon as he brushes his fingers across them, but his control is firm enough that he can pull a disbelieving, horribly docile Kisuke to his chest, swearing to him the entire time that  _ this is real _ . Kisuke seems...fragile, to say the least, but he follows willingly as Ichigo leads them back toward the nearest exit. 

 

Naturally, that’s when they hear the screaming. 

 

It’s a horrible sound, ragged and hoarse and  _ ripped _ from the throat it’s coming from. Ichigo’s changed directions almost without thinking about it, heading deeper into the prison, and Kisuke only presses closer to his back, something determined and knowing settling into his eyes. 

 

The door in front of them doesn’t crumble so much as it  _ vaporizes.  _

 

Ichigo catches only a glimpse of the situation, but it’s all he needs. There are three or four dark-veiled men clustered around a figure stretched on a cross, something flashing a glistening black only just visible withdrawing from the prisoner’s chest and eliciting a choked-off cry as it does so. 

 

These men don’t get the luxury of a quick death via vaporization--Ichigo manifests Shiro in one hand and Ossan in the other and  _ shreds _ them. Kisuke makes a noise that might be a choked-off laugh, watching Ichigo become the center of a bloody whirlwind, but any levity that might have been garnered is lost once Ichigo focuses on the man suspended on the cross.

 

Ichigo knows who it is even  _ before _ he tears away the blindfold and Aizen blinks exhaustedly at him, chest heaving as the gashes there slowly seal over again. A fine tremor runs through his body, increasing as he focuses first on Ichigo and then on Kisuke behind him. In a low, hoarse rasp, he asks quietly,

 

“Are you here to continue my punishment?”

 

Surprisingly enough, it’s Kisuke who steps forward to answer, no trace of his own weakness showing through as he offers a firm,

 

“No.”

 

Aizen closes his eyes, lets out a breath that trembles only a little, and fixes them back on Ichigo’s face unerringly. 

 

“Well, then. If I may be so bold as to ask a favor, Kurosaki-san… Kill me.  _ Please. _ I beg of you.”

 

Ichigo’s rage crests and ebbs, leaving him perfectly, icily cold. His voice deserts him in the wash of emotion, but he sees Aizen flinch away from him, as little as he can, pinned like the butterfly so many joked about after the war. There’s a distinct stutter in his voice as Aizen hesitates, and then resumes speaking.

 

“I...I understand that I have no reason to ask this of you, but I can only throw myself on your mercy, Kurosaki-san. I know you can kill me. You can overpower the Hogyouku.  _ Please _ . Don’t leave me to this.”

 

Kisuke glances at Ichigo, and their gazes meet in an instant of perfect understanding. Kisuke worries, of course, but he knows Ichigo would never leave anyone in such suffering, and he trusts that Ichigo could handle Aizen if it came to it.

 

Without further hesitation, Ichigo steps closer and begins disintegrating Aizen’s bonds with a concentrated flare of reitsu. As soon as the man is freed, though, he collapses into a kneel at Ichigo’s feet, unable to move further. The look of utter disbelief that he fixes on Ichigo as he lifts Aizen carefully into his arms would have been touching in any other circumstance. As it is, Ichigo just grits his teeth and swears to  _ destroy _ Central 46 for this. This is...beyond inhumane. Ichigo couldn’t consider justifying this on anyone, even--perhaps especially--a defeated and bound enemy. 

 

Before they get anywhere, though, one of Aizen’s hands comes up to grasp weakly at Ichigo’s sleeve. 

 

“Kurosaki-san. Gin--Ichimaru-san is here, somewhere. Please, I know he does not deserve this either. Take him with you, if you will.”

 

Kisuke glances at him again, and Ichigo gives a helpless little shrug. They may as well break out anyone else left down here, rather than leave them to Central’s tender care. It’s the work of only a moment to find and release the silver-haired man. 

 

Gin stares down at Aizen’s limp form, in Ichigo’s arms, his face utterly unreadable, and then looks back up at Ichigo and says flatly,

 

“If you’re not gonna kill ‘em, I will. Even  _ he _ didn’ deserve this.”

 

Ichigo’s return smile is, perhaps, a tad more feral than it should be, but he and Shiro and Ossan are, for once, in perfect accord. 

  
Central 46 is going  _ down _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one recognizes this dramatic declaration of an ending at all, nope. 
> 
> Ichigo and Kisuke can be melodramatic fools together though, oh well.


	4. Chapter 4

Byakuya is in his office when the intruder alarm goes off. Carefully, his face blank, he straightens from his paperwork. Sets down his brush. Smooths out his clothes. Stills the trembling in his fingertips. It would not do to seem anything less than utterly professional, even with his heart singing in his chest. 

 

He _ knows _ , beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Ichigo has returned. But Byakuya cannot simply abandon his post and seek him out, not with so much at stake. 

 

Instead he gathers himself and his fukutaichou and heads for the First Division. Renji, wearing the Third’s haori, and Rukia, wearing the lieutenant's band for the Thirteenth, meet him outside the gate. Rukia is very nearly  _ vibrating _ with tension, but controlling herself admirably. Renji looks utterly serious, a ferocious scowl covering any hints of excitement. They both offer him a dignified nod, which he returns without a hint of expression. He fears slipping for even a moment-- he may have relaxed some from his overly stiff mannerisms in the past few years, as he settled more comfortably into his roles, but breaking out into delighted laughter would still have him at Unohana’s mercy before he could blink. 

 

Byakuya gives himself a firm mental shake and strides easily through the massive double doors, flanked on either side by his sister and his friend. Shunsui is waiting for them, Nanao at his side. They both look exhausted and frustrated. No doubt they've come directly from a meeting with C46. Byakuya thinks briefly of the report on his desk, waiting to be filed with the officious fools running the Ninth now, and wonders if Shunsui would look so beaten if he knew the probable cause of the alarm. 

 

He's dragged out of his thoughts by a distraught Kurotsuchi, who bursts in with Nemu at his heels. 

 

“My equipment! It's  _ gone!  _ This is a  _ travesty _ , I will never be able to replace such delicate instruments!”

 

Shunsui raises an unimpressed eyebrow and Mayuri gathers himself, takes a deep breath, and explains. Sort of. 

 

“Something has happened. My monitoring instruments, the reiatsu sensors, even the  _ cameras _ . They all turned to dust. Simultaneously, as far as we can tell. It's...I can't even imagine what it should take to cause this. The strongest of the Arrancar could not even begin to affect my sensors so.”

 

Rukia and Renji trade glances. Shunsui watches them, slowly dawning suspicion crawling across his face. Byakuya steps in. 

 

“Surely we would all feel an event so powerful?”

 

Mayuri shakes his head, too distracted to even scoff at the ignorance of the general populace.

 

“No. Something powerful enough to destroy the upper limits of my equipment would be on another level entirely. We would be completely unable to feel the reiatsu at all.”

 

“Could this have anything to do with the intruder alarms?” Rukia queries innocently. 

 

“If it does, we are all doomed. Not even Aizen at his prime was this powerful.”

 

Nanao straightens abruptly, shock and realization chasing across her features before she clamps down on the emotions. Shunsui glances at her questioningly, but the rest of the captains are filling in, and the meeting is called to order. 

 

Second has no information at all yet, which is unusual, considering their secondary function is intelligence. Soi Fon looks slightly abashed as she reports this, no doubt feeling the sting of what she considers her failure. Mayuri repeats his conclusions from earlier, and the panicked C46 representative demands that Shunsui mobilize all divisions immediately. Byakuya wants to scoff at the overreaction, except that in this instance it's not an overreaction at all. 

 

Shunsui is assigning each division to its post when the world shakes. An instant later, a flash of light erupts from the direction of Muken, the telltale roar of an explosion rattling the walls just behind. Byakuya heads for the window along with the rest of them, gawking at the rising column of smoke coming from what, apparently,  _ used to be _ the prison. Soi Fon gives a strangled gasp and vanishes. 

 

The C46 agent panics completely. They shove their chair back and stand, screeching at the top of their lungs, a panicked demand for the Captain Commander to  _ protect them _ . It’s hard to tell what, exactly, they’re thinking, but they seem to be under the impression that Aizen is coming for them. 

 

Not, Byakuya thinks darkly, that he would blame Aizen for doing exactly that, were they in similar positions. Muken and the Maggots’ Nest are Division 2’s purview, but Byakuya has sat in on enough council meetings to have a general idea of what goes on there. Ichigo is furious, no doubt. Knowing him, he already  _ has _ freed Aizen. No matter. Byakuya trusts that Ichigo will keep the former overlord in line--if he beat him thirty years ago, he can do so now if necessary. 

 

All at once, the alarms go silent. The sudden absence of noise is more disturbing than the sirens themselves had been. The C46 agent tries to tuck their bulk further behind Shunsui, making an undignified whimpering noise. 

 

The Captain Commander looks like he sincerely misses his bottle of sake. 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

So, Ichigo hadn't planned on blowing up Muken. It hadn't even crossed his mind, actually. But when he carries Aizen out of the great double doors, tired afternoon sunlight streaming down on the little party-- the man in his arms gives a choked little sob, turning his face away to hide it in Ichigo's shoulder. 

 

Something in Ichigo breaks, just a little. 

 

Gin shuffles sideways, when Ichigo looks over his shoulder, moving out of his line of sight. Kisuke has already taken up a position on Ichigo's flank. 

 

He sets Aizen on his feet, for a moment, still supporting him with one arm, and stretches the other hand out at the cavernous depths of the prison. 

 

He doesn't use an incantation. He's not even sure it can be called a Kido; it reminds him more of Ulquiorra's Cero Oscuras than anything else. A wave of pure reiatsu pours from his hand, completely disintegrating everything in its path. He can trace its path through the twisting corridors, the cells and torture chambers. His reiatsu boils with his fury, vaporizing the sekisekki walls and, finally, directing itself up, seeking to be free. Several million tons of rock vanish instantly, the remaining dust and rubble exploding upwards. 

 

This place will never be used again. 

 

His anger banked but not assuaged, Ichigo gathers himself and turns to his companions. Kisuke has his head tilted, his longer hair hiding his eyes entirely, but Gin looks delightfully vindictive, smirking bitterly at his erstwhile prison. 

 

Aizen is chalk white and trembling like a leaf. He won't look directly at Ichigo, keeping his eyes down. Ichigo doesn't know if it's because the man can sense his reiatsu--and thus his rage--or at seeing the utter destruction of the place of his suffering, or something else entirely. Perhaps his former nemesis is merely going into shock. Either way, they've lingered long enough. If nothing else, the explosion will draw a great deal of unwanted attention. 

 

It’s time to see if Kuukaku wants to house a bunch of fugitives.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s telling, Ichigo thinks, as he flies through a wall, that Kuukaku waited until  _ after _ he’d set Aizen down to dropkick him. The former shinigami must look  _ really _ bad. 

 

In the meantime, Kuukaku is expressing concern and love and other maternal sentiments via yelling. Ichigo can’t quite tell if she’s venting at him, the Shinigami in general, the Captain Commander in particular, or the Central 46--probably some mix of them, in actuality. Gin, who’s probably not actually acquainted with Kuukaku’s particular brand of affection, is cowering in the corner with Aizen, watching with wide-eyed disbelief. Kisuke is hovering carefully just outside the door, no doubt looking to avoid getting slammed through things. 

 

Kuukaku runs out of breath, pauses, and then, worryingly, bursts into tears and wraps Ichigo in a massive hug. 

 

“You idiot boy, I thought we were never going to see you again.”

 

Ichigo can’t help but smile at that, reaching up to clasp her back. 

 

“I’m back, nee-san.”

 

She sniffles.

 

“Welcome home, little brother.”

 

Then she punches him through the other wall.

 

“Now, what the  _ hell _ do you think you were doing, raiding Muken like that!”

 

Gods, it’s almost like she’s allergic to feelings. Still, it’s good to have his family back again, even a small portion of it, and the chaos is soothing in its own way. Shinji and the others are on their way with Ganju, and in the meantime, Kuukaku sets them all up with rooms and vanishes to prepare dinner--an undertaking all its own, with Ichigo’s group as well as the Visored.

 

Ichigo sets himself to making sure everyone is settled in and taken care of, as well he can. Gin and Kisuke are both more or less fine, if a bit...clingy. Thirty years of absolute isolation will do that to a person, even a relatively more resilient shinigami. He doesn’t begrudge them the need for contact.

It’s Aizen he’s worried about, though. He looks more or less normal, minus the Hogyouku in his chest, but he’s pale, and the tremors haven’t subsided. Ichigo hopes he’s not going into shock, but he brings over an extra blanket and wraps it around the man’s shoulders where he kneels--as ever, with utmost propriety--in his room. 

 

He doesn’t miss the tiny flinch, but he can’t tell if it’s away from him, or away from any contact at all. For enemies, they had parted on relatively amicable terms; there had never been any of the bad blood between them that there is between Aizen and, say, Shinji. They fought because they were on opposite sides of a war of ideals, but they understood each other in a way no one else except perhaps Kisuke could. 

 

That in mind, he settles down across from Aizen, folding into a proper seiza. 

 

“I understand that you’re not all right at the moment, and that that will take time, but is there anything I can do to help?”

 

The Aizen of old wouldn’t have accepted help from anyone, even Ichigo--but this version just might. The former overlord drops his head with a little sigh, allowing Ichigo to see the weakness he knows is there--the weakness that would be ruthlessly concealed with anyone else. 

 

“I require rest, and the food will not be unwelcome, but I do not believe there is anything more that can be done.” He glances up at Ichigo, and the ghost of a proper smirk touches his face. “Unless you’ve learned how to put away your reiatsu since my defeat.”

 

Ichigo blinks, then barks out a little laugh. 

 

“No, you know, I still haven’t managed that. Spent thirty years sealed, though, and now I think you’re the only one who can sense me.”

 

Aizen smiles, then, a true smile.

 

“And even I, I suspect, can only feel the barest edges of what you’re capable of. Truly, Kurosaki-san, you have surpassed my wildest expectations.”

 

Ichigo grins back, acknowledging the mocking reference to their past, and they sit for a minute in companionable silence. Eventually, Aizen tilts his head and asks,

 

“So, why did you choose to raid Muken now, of all times? I cannot imagine that you only  _ now _ decided to defy the Gotei 13 and Central 46.”

 

“Well, after you were defeated, they, ah,  _ ‘ _ revoked my status as a substitute shinigami,’ sealed my reiatsu away, and dumped me back on earth for another thirty years or so. I’m only here now because I  _ died _ , and they couldn’t keep me out then if they’d tried. I imagine they’re realizing what’s happened right about now, though.”

 

Aizen makes a derisive little noise. 

 

“I can’t believe they replaced the 46 I killed with 46 idiots of  _ equal _ foolishness.” 

 

Ichigo snickers. 

 

“Well, if you’d like to remove this batch, you’re more than welcome to. Although, I do believe I’ll need to have a talk with them myself. Did you know, they’ve imprisoned anyone who dared disagree with or spoke out against them? I’m still a bit new to the situation, myself, but from what I can tell, it’s Shunsui against the C46 openly, and a lot of maneuvering behind the scenes. The first thing they did after dumping me back on Earth was put Kisuke in Muken with you and Gin. They were going to just execute the Visored, I think, but Yoruichi and Tessai got them out.”

 

There’s a small sound of discomfort across from him, and Aizen shifts nervously. 

 

“Ah, Kurosaki-san, I don’t believe they would be particularly pleased to see me. Perhaps I should just--remain in my room?”

 

Ichigo thinks of Shinji, of his spitting, festering hatred after a hundred years, and privately agrees. 

 

“They’ll have to know, of course, but I’ll see if I can keep them off your back, yeah.”

 

The look of gratitude he’s fixed with is decidedly disproportionate, but Ichigo understands. He’ll have to try to talk them around--they’ve got a bigger enemy now, anyway. 

  
He looks forward to seeing the Central 46  _ burn. _


	6. Chapter 6

Shinji is excited. It's hard to put a finger on, exactly, but something is different. New, fresh, _ charged _ .

 

He's not really surprised when a runner from Kukaku shows up, requesting their urgent presence. The messenger doesn't say why, but they know Kukaku won't call them inl for anything less than the big event. The Resistance is making its move. Yoruichi grins at him, wide and feral--her anchor has been in Muken for three decades, it's not been easy for her--and Tessai stirs as well, from where he and Hachi are bent together over kido calculations so far beyond current advancements that only Urahara would be able to decipher them.

 

The rest of them perk up quickly, picking up on the excitement and eager to be back in Seireitei. Most of them grew up in Rukongai; even though nothing here can touch them anymore, being back has opened up old wounds.

 

In summary, it's been a rough thirty years. 

 

They're looking forward to going home. 

  
  
  


Aizen glares at his fingers, where they're twisted in his lap. They won't stop trembling, betraying his weakness for the world to see. 

 

He had thought of it as a game, albeit one he was willing to stake everything on, and he had laughed in delight when one of his own experimental pawns had become promoted, become a general in his own right, and stood against Aizen as his equal. 

 

Even when he had been surpassed, brought down by that same general, he had not minded overmuch. He had begun the game. It would hardly be sporting to change the rules now. 

 

Aizen had thought himself prepared, whether the loser's lot was death or subjugation or imprisonment.

 

He had been wrong.

 

The sneers of the newly reformed Central 46 at his sentencing had echoed behind his sealed eyes. They had hated him, not for the conquest he'd attempted but for shaking up their comfortable lives and challenging the stagnation that masqueraded as tradition. 

 

They'd feared and despised Kurosaki, Kisuke, and the Vizored for precisely the same reason. 

 

At the beginning of his imprisonment he had hoped for many things-- that his remaining Espada escaped, written off by Soul Society as useless against him once he'd turned his back on them. That Kurosaki found others to understand and support him, as Aizen had not. That Gin found his vindication and was absolved of his crimes. 

 

Quickly, however, he realized he would have no energy to waste on others. The transfer to Muken had been expected, but he was not afforded the chance to disappear into his own mind, as he had intended. The faceless guards had merely adjusted his bindings, drawing his limbs taut on a cross, and left him suspended there. Sightless, unable to scream, Aizen had endured far beyond what he'd thought even himself capable of. Had he his voice, he would have begged. 

 

They came back, but there was no relief, only more pain in ever-greater and more creative waves. Sometimes they loosened the bindings on his mouth, if only to hear him scream.

 

And then Kurosaki had exploded back into his life. Aizen had requested the final mercy, unable to bear the thought of countless centuries, even after only a decade or two of his punishment. 

 

To his flat astonishment, however, he'd been freed instead. Events afterward had transpired so quickly he'd half wondered if he was dreaming them. Being outside again was a blessing, even if it was too large, too loud, too bright, after the silent isolation of Muken. 

 

Now he waits for judgement of a different kind. 

 

Aizen hadn't thought twice about betraying his captain, condemning him and the others to a short, painful death-- or else a life of hatred and condemnation as fugitives, as it turned out. He hadn't seen them as _ people _ , not until much, much later, only as conveniently powerful test subjects for his experiments. 

 

He hadn't seen Kurosaki as a person at first, though, either. Although the hybrid might not have had the cruelty to allow even his greatest enemy to linger in torment, Aizen has no illusions as to his standing, compared to Kurosaki's friends. Friends who hated him, who would be more than happy to finish him as Kurosaki did not. 

 

Aizen would never admit it, but he is nervous. Afraid, even. Not of death, per say, but of having to face down those he has harmed, before he knew the meaning of companionship, and to feel their hatred and judgment. 

 

Guilt is a foreign sensation, and it eats away at his inside without a hint of stopping. 

 

He suspects this means that he will have to make an apology. A sincere one. 

 

… Lovely. 

 

#####################

 

Shunsui stands in front of the Central 46 and tries not to, ah, “pull an Aizen,” as it were, and massacre the entire body of politicians. He hates them, hates them as he did not believe he  _ could _ hate, but they smile down at him, convinced of their own superiority, and his fingers itch to play a little _ game _ with them. 

 

He takes a deep breath and tries again, addressing the foremost member of the court. 

 

“Sirs, we request a change of the current orders. The being who destroyed Muken is incredibly powerful, and any isolated patrols that come across them will be decimated instantly. If, perhaps, some of the captains and lieutenants were paired off with a runner from Division 2, these sets would hold off the intruder while the runner slipped away to retrieve the other captains. It would give us a fighting chance, sirs, especially if the intruder continues to conceal their presence instead of revealing themselves. As it is, we're sitting ducks, waiting for the rest of our forces to be decimated while we do  _ nothing.” _

 

An infuriated hiss issues from behind the Council member's veil. 

 

“I would hardly consider protecting the ruling body of Seireitei ‘nothing,’ Kyouraku. Watch your tongue, lest it get away from you. I am sure that our trusted scouts will be able to handle whatever they find. Until they bring us information, however, the captains and lieutenants will work with the Second Division to patrol and guard  _ this _ building. Am I understood?”

 

Shunsui  _ hates _ them. 

 

Before he can lose his temper properly at the careless waste of lives, however, Nanao tugs subtly at his sleeve, an unnoticeable gesture from where she stands silently at his elbow. Generally, that's her “please don't kill anyone” reminder, but it's sharper this time, more urgent, and when he risks a glance at her head surprised to find her eyes, hidden behind her glasses, flick up to meet his with a touch of mischief. 

 

Nanao? Mischievous? 

 

He can't imagine it, couldn't think of anything that might bring out her playfulness except for--

 

The pieces click together and he almost laughs aloud in the middle of the Council chamber. Quickly, he bows his head before the Council member, as if properly cowed, and acquiesces to their demands without further protest. 

 

May as well keep the more difficult players out of the game for a while longer, maintain the smokescreen against the rulers, while the challenger gathers his allies. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Shinji and the others tumble back into the compound with about as much discretion as eight shinigami with animal instincts can manage. Which, really, means that it's only the presence of Yoruichi and Tessai that allows for their undetected passage. Ichigo can sense them coming from over an hour’s travel away, regardless, and Shiro is screeching with excitement in his head, at what the Hollow considers his kin.

 

Shinji spends about two seconds trying to play cool before drawing him into a hug, slender fingers gripping the back of Ichigo's kimono. Their eyes are both suspiciously damp when they draw away, holding each other at arms’ length and drinking in the other's appearance. The eldest Visored looks as well as ever, but…

 

“Shinji. What are you doing with your hair.”

 

Shinji gives him a trademark Cheshire grin, all teeth, and tosses his waist-length hair back over his shoulders. 

 

“What, ya don't like it, Ichi-chan? I'm hurt, really.”

 

It suits him, actually, fits with the air of confidence that's more real and less faked, less desperate than when they first met, but Ichigo is busy staring at the top of his head, where a cat-ear headband is keeping his bangs out of his eyes. Shinji follows his eyes and reaches up with a smirk. 

 

“Oh, this ole thing? Your little Rukia gave it to me, actually, said the Chappy headband was hers but I could have this one. She's been one hell of a go between, Ichi-chan. Pretty sure she and Byaku-bo cooked up the whole damn thing between the two of them.”

 

Ichigo tips his head back and laughs freely, simple joy sparking down his spine. 

 

It's so good to be home. 

 

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

 

The war council convenes after dinner. Aizen and Gin have remained in their respective rooms, and by general consensus no one has mentioned them to the Visored. Rukia and Byakuya have both managed to be present, since they're _ technically _ on official business to ensure that the Shiba clan is not, in fact, shielding the intruder. Again. Rukia giggles as Byakuya announces this in his most officious voice, his stern facade never wavering. He, too, had tried to apologize to Ichigo, only to get told the same thing as Rukia. 

 

His proud face cracks into a small smile as the rest of the room snickers, and then freezes as Yoruichi drapes herself over him from behind, crowing about how her Bya-bo has grown up.

 

The irritated tick to his jaw just sets the room off again. 

 

Kisuke, Tessai, and Yoruichi have mostly claimed one corner, piled together in the least dignified setup Ichigo has ever seen. He's pretty sure he saw Tessai hiss at the last person to walk too close. At least Kisuke seems happy, like they're trying to make up for thirty years of touch starvation in about two hours. 

 

Rukia is alternating between bullying Ichigo and--terrifyingly--plotting with Shinji, the two of them letting out twin cackles every so often. Ichigo has no idea what they're planning, and he definitely doesn't want to know, either. It's not a friendship he would ever have envisioned, but they fit together with horrifying ease. He can see the flames and hear the laughter amid the screams now. 

 

Ichigo shudders and turns away from the demon duo, hoping to find a little more sanity in the other half of the room, but chaos abounds there as well. Kukaku and Lisa are fighting about something, probably Shunsui, while Hiyori threatens both of them with her sandal. The rest of the Visored appear to be betting on the altercation, with Ganju gleefully playing bookie.

 

Byakuya looks like a serene island in the middle of the storm, sipping peacefully on his tea and basking in the pandemonium like the creature of chaos he secretly is. Ichigo knew they were friends for a reason. He practically dives for the kotatsu, where Byakuya offers him a serene smile and pours him a cup of tea.

 

Sometimes Ichigo thinks that Aizen and Byakuya would really get along quite well, before the thought terrifies him too much to continue considering. 

 

In that vein, though, there is business to attend to. Quietly, Ichigo fills Byakuya in on the rescue. His friend nods, unsurprised and unworried, his faith in Ichigo as absolute as ever. 

 

The rest of the meeting, ominously, goes equally smoothly once Ichigo has everyone's attention. Reports are made, allies and enemies are considered, and battle plans, such as they are against such an underwhelming threat, are drawn up. 

 

Eventually, plans are finalized and everyone disperses to their rooms for the night-- with the exception of Shinji and Kisuke. The news isn't going to go over well, he  _ knows _ it, but Ichigo needs to tell Shinji himself, and Kisuke is one of the only people Shinji trusts to, at least, tell him what he needs to know. 

 

It does not, in fact, go over well. Shinji howls at them in fury, tries to get past them to demand that Aizen show himself, and then crumples into an unhappy heap in the middle of the hallway. 

 

“I know why ya did it, Ichi-chan, and I can't even say you're wrong ta do it, but damned if I don't want the chance ta take it outta his hide myself, a little.”

 

He gives Ichigo a wan grin. 

 

“I won't kill him, and I'll talk to the others about it too. But I reserve the right to punch him in the face, at  _ least _ once.”

 

Ichigo concedes the point with a shrug. That's not really his business, so long as no one under his protection gets hurt, and these two have a century and a half of issues to work out with each other, not to mention whatever the others might feel the need to… discuss. Still, he thinks that the resolution will be good for all of them. 

 

At least Gin’s rescue will mostly be a non-issue, given the bigger threat at hand. Besides, most of the Visored had relinquished their hatred after Gin's initial, almost-fatal attack on Aizen, the one that had offed Tousen and nearly crippled the overlord himself. It was Shinji who'd organized the others for a rescue, even, letting Hacchi stabilize and abscond with the wounded traitor while he and the others played tag team, keeping Aizen busy for those few, critical moments before Ichigo had shown up, fresh from making peace with both his zanpakuto spirits and flush with power that kept Aizen from winning the war right there in that single, devastating strike. 

 

After that, everyone else had been more or less relegated to the sidelines, while the two powerhouses clashed again and again, scraping more power together each time in a desperate bid to outmaneuver the other. 

 

It was his humanity that won, Kisuke had theorized, his living and malleable soul capable of more growth than the already plateauing shinigami. 

 

Personally, though, Ichigo thought that he won because he was fighting  _ for  _ something, his reasons for victory clamoring in his head and at his side every time he faced off against the would-be lord. Aizen had been alone. Ichigo had not. 

 

It made all the difference in the world. 


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Byakuya and Rukia head back towards Seireitei, resuming their patrol. Ichigo and the others sort themselves out with breakfast, for which Gin and Aizen both join them. Tensions are unsurprisingly high, but Shinji has clearly already spoken with the other Visored, and there is an uneasy peace that settles over the long, low table. Eventually, Hiyori loses it. She stands, marches over to where Aizen has been keeping his head down, and  _ thwacks _ him over the head with her sandal. It's not a blow that could do damage to any seated shinigami, much less the closest thing to a god that Soul Society has seen since Yhwach, but Aizen flinches anyway, ducking his head lower and making no move to defend himself. Hiyori just nods firmly and sticks her finger in his face.

 

"Don't do it again, you hear me?"

 

Aizen twitches in his seat, but nods solemnly regardless. 

 

"You have my word, little though that may be worth."

 

There's a long moment of silence, and then Shinji starts snickering helplessly. Hiyori flushes bright red, but refuses to back down, dropping a tentative hand on Aizen's head and ruffling the carefully-combed locks there. It's probably the last thing Aizen would have expected, and he very nearly  _ flails _ for a moment before subsiding. Gin joins Shinji in laughter, and the helplessly confused look that Aizen darts at Ichigo doesn't help a bit. 

 

The tension utterly shattered, Hiyori stomps back to her seat, swatting at Gin and Shinji both as she does. 

 

That settled, it's time to implement step one of The Plan, one last bid for a peaceful change. Ichigo has absolutely no desire to fight any of his former war comrades, or anyone at all if it comes down to it. There's no way this would have been possible under Yamamoto, bless his soul, but Shunsui is much more likely to see reason. It's the Central 46 they'll have to worry about, but Ichigo would be much happier with the Captain-Commander solidly on his side. 

 

Ichigo takes Shinji, and Aizen, and Tessai. He'd rather have had Kisuke at his back, but he hadn't wanted to throw him back into politicking so soon, not when he's barely comfortable interacting with any of them. Yoruichi and Kisuke are present in an unofficial capacity, though, acting as guards against any sudden attacks. He'd offered to let Aizen sit out as well, but the other had _ insisted _ on coming. Ichigo suspects that they're each dealing with their respective trauma in very different ways.

 

The little diplomatic party makes its way to the nearest Gate into Seireitei, politely greeting Jidanbo and settling down to wait for the nearest Captain's patrol-- which is completely coincidentally and not at all intentionally the one headed by Byakuya and Rukia. 

 

Byakuya reacts with appropriate solemnity, sending off a runner to the Captain-commander, alerting him to the diplomatic party requesting authorized entry to Seireitei, looking to negotiate with the leaders of Soul Society.

 

Shunsui shows up with Nanao and the C46 delegation in under an hour-- which given the size of the city and the shinigami lifespan, is an insanely fast response time. 

 

His hat conceals his eyes, but the broad smile spreading across Shunsui's face upon sighting Ichigo is unmistakable. Ichigo swallows his own grin and steps forward to offer introductions. There are two other captains with Shunsui, neither of whom Ichigo recognizes. The one with the five on his sleeve is eyeing Tessai like he wants to devour the man's brain, and the other can hardly conceal the flat disgust on his face when he looks at  _ any _ of them, so it's hard to tell if he's scornful of Ichigo, the outsider, Shinji, the hybrid abomination, or Aizen, the… traitor-god-conqueror. Or perhaps of anything not under the thumb of Central 46.

 

They're accompanied by a duo from C46 who are nearly a parody of themselves, an elderly noble with a silvery wisp of mustache and rheumy eyes, and a quivering mass of flesh without even the strength to hold itself up. Shiro immediately dismisses their physical threat levels as negligible.

 

The larger one waddles forward in a fit of bureaucratic courage. 

 

"Kurosaki Ichigo. Explain yourself to this august body immediately. What are you doing, consorting with this prisoner and the… abomination. The Central 46 can be merciful. Cease your actions at once, and you shall be pardoned, perhaps even allowed to rejoin the Gotei 13--under supervision of course."

 

Ichigo's voice is deceptively mild when he responds, but he can feel Aizen shudder from his left flank. 

 

"And the others? What shall become of them?"

 

The diplomat fails to read the mood entirely. 

 

"The abomination and its ilk must be exterminated at once, naturally. The traitor will be returned to Muken, when it is rebuilt. As a gesture of goodwill, we are willing to offer Tsukabishi Tessai and Shihouin Yoruichi their old ranks again, under a probation period of one hundred years. Urahara Kisuke's sentence will be commuted to a mere five hundred years, to be served in the Maggots Nest."

 

Ichigo hums thoughtfully, ignoring the way Aizen staggers.

 

"I see. Regretfully, I don't believe we're going to be able to accept these terms. Here, let me make a counter-offer, and we'll begin negotiations, yes?"

 

The larger one gives an outraged splutter, drawing himself up as much as possible, but the older diplomat just huffs and waves a hand in their general direction. 

 

"Continue."

 

Shunsui looks like he's watching a tennis match, unconcerned but deeply entertained by the back and forth. He and the other captains have been cut out entirely, but since they're supposed to be there as a safeguard and show of force anyway, no one seems too perturbed. Ichigo flashes the man a quicksilver smirk and directs his attention to the older diplomat. 

 

"We request no more or less than peaceful coexistence-- for the Visored, of which we would like to remind the Central 46 that we ourselves are one, for the outcast Shinigami, and for those who perhaps take a different political stance than your august government. To this end, we propose the creation of an auxiliary body to the Gotei 13, much like the Kido Corps or Onmitsukido, working together with the C46 for the protection of Soul Society, but entirely self-governed. Furthermore, membership shall not be denied to any who desire to join in good faith."

 

(Ichigo was right. Aizen and Byakuya are a  _ terrifying _ team. He doesn't even want to consider how completely they're going to dominate the political scene once everything is settled.)

 

The initial proposition ignores a lot of things, like the imprisonment of dissidents or the neglect of Rukongai or whatever the actual fuck was going down with Muken, but Ichigo has been advised that all these things can come later, should this path work. As a separate government, they'll have more power to negotiate later, once they're not in theoretical danger of extermination-- and it's only theoretical because Ichigo has power more or less oozing out his ears, and that's the one thing this government cannot help but listen to. 

 

Naturally, that's when the Onmitsukido strikes. 

 

The attack comes out of nowhere, sudden and deadly. One assassin each for Ichigo and Shinji, and two for Aizen, armed with some sort of suppressant collar that would likely negate his Hogyouku enhanced power. 

 

Unfortunately for the Onmitsukido, though, Ichigo's side has the former head of the group, and the best assassin to ever leave their ranks. The three going for Aizen and Shinji fall dead without warning, and Kisuke himself slams Soi Fon into the ground at Ichigo's feet. The former shopkeeper is nearly unrecognizable, his black-clad form showing none of the easy relaxation that his harmless persona usually displayed. Yoruichi saunters out of the shadows with her most satisfied smile, daring anyone in the vicinity to challenge her.

 

"There we go, much better. Now that everything is out in the open, are we ready to get down to the actual negotiating? I do believe Ichi-bo has said his piece. What say you?"


End file.
